All in Drinking
It’s funny how some songs take on a life of their own in our own lives. Wagon Wheel for me is one of those songs.
When my kids were younger, they would compete to make a CD compilation of their favorite songs, to see which I would like best. It was through this competition where I found a world of music I never would have discovered.
Back in the late seventies, just out of high school, anything was an excuse for a house party. Of course, none of us had houses, but our parents did. The best house for a party at this time was at my friend Woody’s parent’s house.
It was not mine, but it may have been my son Danny’s first concert.
Although, after what we saw that night, I’m surprised he ever went back to see another.
I'm not sure why women would give me their numbers, even unsolicited on my part. When they do, and I reach out, why do they not return my calls?
Spent the last week of July this year down in Belmar, New Jersey in the bottom half of my ex-sister-in-law’s two family house. Its a great house, equidistant between the beach and the center-of-town. However, my favorite thing to do is, at the end of the day, after the sun goes, is plant myself on the front section of her wrap around porch.
Author’s Note: This is not a spoiler alert, this is more like ‘if you don’t like what I say next, do not read further.’
It was like listening to two forty-something frat boys trying to one up each other.
Author’s Note: For this post, I am not using real names. I’m not hiding a crime (well, not really) and the people involved know who they are. Usually, I would ask the people in the post if I could use their names, but in this case, I don’t have access to everyone, so ‘the names have been changed to protect...me.’
I grew up at a time that drunk driving was encouraged (kidding, of course – sort of).
A good conversation is one of my favorite things. Conversations in bars are even better (just add alcohol).
No one wants to die in a stupid way. Something that will end up a punch line of their life once they are gone. Preferably, I would like to die in my sleep and, one night a few years ago, I almost got my wish.
Each Monday night a group of us play trivia at a bar in Annandale (New Jersey). Its a big bar and a very friendly group of teams.
That is, it was until last Monday.
Author’s note: By the end of this post, I come off as the bad guy (for good reason).
